


Family

by booksandchocolatecake



Category: Six of Crows Series - Leigh Bardugo
Genre: Ableism, Adoption, Angst, F/F, F/M, Flashbacks, Fluff and Angst, Found Family, Jan Van Eck’s A+ Parenting, M/M, Parental Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-02
Updated: 2020-07-09
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:00:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25035115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/booksandchocolatecake/pseuds/booksandchocolatecake
Summary: Wylan considers family. The dark, twisted family he had with the Van Ecks. The family he found with the Dregs. And the family he wants to start with Jesper.
Relationships: Hanne Brum/Nina Zenik, Jesper Fahey/Wylan Van Eck, Kaz Brekker/Inej Ghafa, Matthias Helvar/Nina Zenik
Comments: 10
Kudos: 64





	1. Past

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger warning: physical and mental abuse, ableism, internalised ableism, panic attacks and use of the r slur. If you’re not comfortable with this, you can read the other two chapters, which don’t have any trigger warnings, without having read this one.

Family meant a lot of things to Wylan Van Eck. Mostly, it meant fear. Fear and horror and terror, and never being good enough, no matter how hard Wylan tried.

Family was his father, who would hit him and scream at him until he was crying and begging his father to stop, insisting he was trying so hard, he was really trying. His father would spit at him, slap him and call him a ‘lazy, insolutent, ungrateful brat’ before storming out of the room and locking Wylan in his room until he could read a page of a legal document.

Wylan would sit there for hours, staring at the illegible scribbles and jumbles of words on the page until his eyes were red and sore from staring and crying. He’d go to bed with his stomach rumbling and stay up for hours looking blankly at the ceiling, praying to whatever Gods were out there for anything, anything other than this. He’d wake up in the morning and find the door unlocked, and he’d walk into the dining room, where his father would always be waiting for him. His father would simply sneer and call him a ‘stupid, good for nothing r*tard’ and leave Wylan to pick at his scrambled eggs in silence, his appetite suddenly gone.

Family meant Alys Van Eck, the woman Wylan was supposed to consider a mother, despite being only six years older than Wylan himself. He’d never known how to act around her. She was vapid and silly and sweet, and Wylan had the distinct impression she didn’t really know what to think about him either. 

She certainly wouldn’t replace his own mother, who had died when Wylan was seven years old. He had only vague, blurry memories of her, but she had been kind and loving. She had cared about him, unlike anyone in his life now.

Alys was barely older than a child herself. Wylan doubted she knew how to, or would want to be a mother to anyone. If anything, he pitied Alys. She had been married to his cold father by her parents for his money and status. She seemed happy enough with her parakeets and her incessant singing, but you never knew what was going on below the surface.

After all, anyone who had ever encountered Wylan at a mercher dinner with his father would think he was a perfect son, ready to take the reins of the family business from his father when he was old enough. They could never guess he was a moron who couldn’t even string together a simple sentence. 

Besides, at sixteen years old, Wylan was far too old to be wishing for some kind of motherly affection. That would be what his father would tell him was childish, and girly of him. Those were the things that one received from a wife. He would never get married, have children, if he couldn’t even read or write a simple sentence that a four year old child could.

Nevermind that he had never pictured himself kissing or getting married to any of the women he saw at mercher dinners. It would come with age, he supposed.

So, Wylan ate dinner across the table from Alys, made polite conversation, and tried not to gag into his beef stew when he saw his balding father caressing Alys, who could have been his wife‘s thigh under the table.

He couldn’t say he liked his life. He detested it, in fact.

That was what his father meant about him being ungrateful. He had a hot, delicious plate of food placed in front of him for every meal. He had the best tutors in Ketterdam - not that he made any use of them - and a warm bed to sleep in every night.

Wylan knew how lucky he was. He could be sleeping on the streets of the Barrel, or living with some sort of disgusting, murderous thugs.

Instead, he spent his days in a large, beautiful mansion that most would kill to live in. Yet, a part of him dreamed of a world where his mother had survived and they had run away together. Perhaps they could live on a nice farm in the suburbs. Or even escape the country to live in a place like Novyi Zem, free of war and merchers and the politics that plagued Wylan’s life. Yes, Novyi Zem sounded nice. His mother would tuck him in every night and hold him and keep him safe. And he would never be asked to read anything ever again.  


Wylan shook himself. He had to stop with these silly fantasies. His life was perfect, and he wasn’t appreciating it. He was the ungrateful one, for being so stupid and lazy he couldn’t string together a basic sentence. He tried so hard to show his father that he was trying, but he wouldn’t listen. Wylan was selfish, for not being good enough to read a shop sign, let alone continue his father’s legacy as his only son. 

Wylan let out a small sob, then quickly wiped his eyes. His father would be here soon to escort him to the mercher dinner tonight at Councilman Hoede’s house, and he couldn’t see him like this. Jan Van Eck had long since abandoned bringing Wylan to every event he attended, in fear that his the truth of his disappointment son’s illiteracy would be exposed. His father had given up on him long ago. However, he was still courteous, and when the invitation specified that the event was for not only the merchers but their families, he was forced to bring Wylan to the dinner with him.

Wylan fiddled with the buttons of his black suit distractedly, and ran a hand through his neatly brushed red-gold hair, mussing it up. Even though it wouldn’t have made up for his illiteracy, Wylan was lacklustre in the looks department too. According to his father, the smattering of freckles on his nose and cheeks were too feminine, and the more superstitious would consider his orange-gold hair bad luck. Even his genetics couldn’t get it right. Wylan Van Eck, all round disappointment. That was how he should be introduced at these events. It was only the truth, after all.

Wylan hated mercher dinners. Not as much as he hated being forced to read by his father, but sometimes it felt like it came close. All the standing around and talking and putting on fake smiles. It made Wylan want to run. The lights were too bright and all the people talking at once were too loud and who was this man he and his father were talking to again?

To make matters worse, Jan Van Eck kept sneaking glances at him as if Wylan was incapable of doing the simplest task like making conversation with a bored mercher. Wylan knew how pathetic he was, how lowly his father regarded him, but he didn’t like seeing it emphasised.

Wylan ran a hand down the case of his flute. Another ‘feminine’ thing that his father didn’t approve of. When Wylan was in the piano room, playing flute, it was the only time he felt truly happy in this house. Music didn’t get all muddled and mixed up in his head. Playing flute felt like Wylan could express everything he was feeling, in the form of music. He’d even written a few original pieces, but he was too embarrassed to show them to anyone.

Who would there be to show? Wylan’s father ridiculed him for his love of music. So would all of the merchers at these dinners, if they knew the truth about him.

Alys didn’t have the best ear for music, judging by what Wylan had heard of her voice lessons. His father had got her a music instructor within seconds of her expressing her passion for singing. He’d had to hide in his room and swallow his tears of envy whenever Bajan came to the mansion. From his room, he could just hear the Suli instructing Alys on different notes and tones and pitches, and all Wylan could think was ‘I wish that were me.’

Now, Wylan took the silver flute out of its cushioned case and rubbed its smooth surface with his restless fingers to calm himself. The metal was cool and felt refreshing against Wylan’s sweaty palms. As he ran his fingers over the various nooks and crevices of the instrument, his breathing returned to normal.

That happened to him sometimes. It always happened when his father shouted at him, or he thought about his father. He’d feel like he couldn’t breathe. His head would pound and spin, and his thoughts would spiral into insanity. Sometimes it would be over in a few minutes. Sometimes, he would have to wait hours, feeling drained and empty and like he wanted to die before it passed.

Wylan knew that wasn’t normal. He’d done his best to hide it from Jan Van Eck. He might be committed to an asylum. Just another way that Wylan Van Eck, eternal disappointment, was defective, he supposed. 

Wylan often wondered if his existence was a mistake. A slip of Ghenzen’s hand. Occasionally, he wished that was the case. That some higher power would realise their mistake and snap him out of existence. He had so many things wrong with him, so many things he couldn’t do. Jan Van Eck deserved a better son. A son who wasn’t r*tarded.

Wylan banished that thought from his head. His breathing was out of control again and he could sense a headache coming on. He stroked the flute slowly and took deep, slow breaths until he could lower himself onto his desk chair. Feeling drained and empty, he sat and waited.

His father swung the door open, and Wylan winced slightly from the noise. His headache hadn’t completely disappeared yet. Jan Van Eck grabbed Wylan by the end of his shirt and pulled his collar. He felt his throat close up as he sweated furiously. He hated people touching him. It made him feel like he wanted to be sick. He got up and his father looked him down.

“You look reasonably respectable, for a dimwit.”

Wylan nodded weakly, and tried not to flinch. His father released him from his grip, and Wylan felt like he could breathe properly again.

“I’ll try my best, Father.”

“You should do better than your best.” His father gripped his arm a little too tightly as if it was a threat. He squeezed a little tighter so it hurt, and Wylan grit his teeth. “Don’t embarrass me out there, Wylan.”

“I promise.” mumbled Wylan, and Jan Van Eck dragged him out of his big, lonely bedroom and into the street.

***

Wylan took a deep breath as he looked around him. He was in the stuffy living room of Councilman Hoede’s mansion, along with hundreds of other merchers and their families.

They seemed to have taken the ‘bring your relatives’ message to heart. Wylan could see little children running around and being pulled back by tired parents, and boys who looked Wylan’s age talking in groups.

His father had never let him talk to other boys his age unless it was at a dinner like this one for social purposes. He was too worried about the secret of his son’s stupidity getting out. So, Wylan had watched from his bedroom window as other boys laughed and talked and grew up, never noticing the boy with light red-gold hair who watched sadly them from a small window in the Van Eck mansion.

Wylan had even come up with stories about them to amuse himself. They were not the rich merchers' children that he knew they were, but pirates disguised as wealthy schoolboys who were infiltrating the merchers' families and stealing their money. Wylan had come up with this particular tale after his father’s De Kappel was stolen from right under his nose. Jan Van Eck had been furious, of course, but Wylan had been rather amused. It had been an ugly painting anyway.

It sounded so exciting, being a criminal. Not the committing crime part, really. He liked to believe he had solid moral standards. But Wylan liked the idea of having some kind of purpose to your existence, something his life lacked. Even if that purpose was breaking the law. And he couldn’t deny it had given him a small thrill to see his father bested, and so angry about it as well. Wylan hoped he’d get to see it again some day, then told himself that even thinking that was incredibly ungrateful to his father, who was trying his best, despite having an illiterate idiot for a son.

Wylan felt his father pinch him and he looked up from staring at his shoes. 

“Hello Mr Van Eck.” said the mercher in front of Wylan and his father, who had greying black hair and an unflattering beard. He shook hands with Wylan’s father. “Hello… I’m sorry, what’s your name?”

His father elbowed him sharply. He blushed crimson. “W- Wylan!” he stuttered. “My name is Wylan. Wylan Hen... Sorry, Van Eck.” Wylan tried to hold back tears at the horror of what he’d nearly said. “Wylan Van Eck.”

“Good to meet you. Talk to you later, Mr Van Eck.” said the man. He turned away to talk to other people.  
Wylan watched him go, and his father looked around to make sure no one was watching, and gave Wylan a sharp look. 

“What was that? You said your mother’s name! She’s dead. Dead. You looked like a tomato. You need to do better, Wylan. Just don’t let me down in this one thing, like you have in everything else. It’s not that hard.” he sneered. “I suppose it is, for someone like you.”

The insult hit Wylan like a punch in the chest. “I know, Father. I’ll do better from now on.”

Jan Van Eck’s upper lip curled. “You always say that.” He scoffed. “Go bother someone else. And don’t do anything stupid. Nevermind. You are the stupid thing.”

Wylan wandered away, looking at the floor in shame. It was suddenly all too much. The sound of people talking filled Wylan’s head until it pounded. The light from the chandelier blinded him. He couldn’t breathe. How could he breathe? He only had one thought: get out. He needed to get out of here. Overwhelmed and his head spinning, his breath coming in short gasps, Wylan ran to a side door and threw it open.

The cold air hit Wylan like a bucket of ice cold water. He took in big gulps of cool air as he stood in a dark side alleyway in the freezing cold, feeling so dizzy he might throw up. Wylan closed the door slightly and glanced around the alleyway. The sun had already set and it was completely dark. His eyes adjusted to the light slowly and, hit by a sudden wave of nausea after looking back into the living room for a second, he collapsed onto the floor of the alleyway. He slid down the grimy wall with his back to the bright room packed with people, and slumped against the weight of the wall to keep himself steady. Still struggling to take in breaths, he put his head in his hands and sobbed. The salty tears slid down his face and he could taste some on his tongue. He cried and cried, shaking with the effort, until his eyes were raw and it hurt to swallow. 

Wylan looked up slightly after what felt like hours and saw something that hadn’t been there before. There was a checkered blue handkerchief beside him. Someone had left him a handkerchief. He glanced around frantically, but he couldn’t see anyone there. He slowly wiped away his tears with the handkerchief, and fiddled nervously, his fingers working their way up and down continuously until it was covered in holes. Wylan noticed the edges were frayed. Someone had fiddled with it before.  


He gulped, and took a big, shaky breath. Wylan swallowed and pushed himself up from the ground. Clutching the handkerchief close, he walked back into the living room and faced the merchers and his father. He never knew who had left him that handkerchief, but he could have sworn he saw a Zemini boy in a moss green waistcoat creeping out of the alleyway out of the corner of his eye, and a Suli girl watching the exchange from the shadows.


	2. Present

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wylan considers family. The dark, twisted family he had with the Van Ecks. The family he found with the Dregs. And the family he wants to start with Jesper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Major spoilers for Nina’s plotline and love interest in King of Scars

Family meant a lot of things to Wylan Hendriks. Mostly, it meant belonging. Excitement, and happiness, and a feeling that this was where you were meant to be. Family was the Dregs, who he visited to go out for waffles every week, and to commit the occasional minor crime if Kaz was there. Family was Nina, who would visit from her job spying in Fjerda and living in the Little Palace in Ravka every month just for the Ketterdam waffles. In her own words, no other waffles in the world compared. Family was Inej, who also visited every few months, when she wasn’t busy dispatching slave traders, to help Kaz with whatever information he was trying to get his hands on. She always stayed with Jesper and Wylan. Family was Kaz, who, despite insisting that he had no friends and all he did was for power and Kruge, was definitely one of Wylan’s closest friends. He came over for dinner at the mansion every week, although he did claim it was for the expensive food that their chef prepared. Family was Jesper… well, that was a different kind of family, Wylan supposed. Still, Jesper was the closest thing to a true family that he had. Jesper, and his mother.

Marya Hendriks had moved into Wylan’s mansion a month after Jan Van Eck was arrested. He had the entire mansion redecorated and entirely refurbished, after he had panic attacks every time he went into a room and saw something that reminded him of his father. He replaced all the furniture and repainted the walls himself with Jesper’s help, and chose everything with his mother until the only room left untouched was the piano room. Wylan never wanted to change that room. It was a reminder of the tiny spark of hope that he’d had in his past life, even with the hopelessness he’d felt. It helped Wylan remember that there was always a little bit of hope in the world, no matter how dark things got.

Wylan had changed his name and gone back to his mother’s maiden name. He’d rid himself of any reminder of that man, with the exception of the bag of horse dung that Wylan and Jesper had personally paid to be delivered to his father’s jail cell once a year on what would have been Jan’s birthday. Wylan grinned thinking about it. It felt like a personalized middle finger to his father. I can be petty too, he thought.

Marya Hendriks had taken a while to adjust to the new environment. She was finally off the drugs that the asylum had used to subdue her, but she had taken a while to feel everything again. Wylan didn’t think she’d ever be the same as she had been before, and he hated his father for that. He hated his father for many things. When he had gone to the asylum to see her the day after the auction with Jesper by his side, his face his real one this time, Marya had burst into tears. Wylan had fallen to his knees and held her, sobbing in happiness, as he’d dreamed of doing so many times as a child. 

He’d held her hand a month later as he took her into the mansion and showed her everything he’d done to it. The walls were no longer a dull beige but a soft pastel yellow. Hanging in the corridor weren’t old, dusty paintings of old men who Wylan was distantly related to but artworks he’d painted and drawn himself of the heist, the Dregs, Jesper, and colourful versions of the streets of Ketterdam. He’d hung up her paintings of him in pride of place, and he saw tears in her eyes when she caught sight of them.

There were still some days when she couldn’t do anything but sit in her room in silence, crying. It happened to him sometimes, too. When he thought too hard about his father, or his past. On those days, Wylan would sit beside Marya, clutching her hand, and play her relaxing music on his flute for hours until she fell asleep. Jesper was wonderful with her. He would talk to her and tell her the funniest, most parent-appropriate stories ever. Wylan wouldn’t have thought that Jesper had it in him to not make a single innuendo that made Wylan’s cheeks turn pink in an entire conversation.

Now, Marya ate dinner with Wylan and Jesper every night. She chatted with them and told them stories as they told her tales of their own escapades. She laughed at their jokes, and Wylan thought her laugh was so rare and beautiful it lit up the entire room. When Marya laughed, Wylan couldn’t stop a grin from spreading across his face. She was like a ball of energy who brought happiness and positivity wherever she went. Jesper liked to say that now he knew where Wylan had gotten it from, although Wylan didn’t understand how anyone could think he spread the amount of cheer that his mother brought into every room.

Marya loved Wylan’s friends, especially Inej, and they liked to have philosophical discussions about morality and good and evil over dinner that neither Wylan nor Jesper could really understand. His mother even occasionally used Suli proverbs that Inej had taught her in conversation, which made Inej very happy. Marya had taken longer to warm to Kaz, considering his questionable morals, but she considered him like a son to her, and was convinced that he had a heart of gold under the many, many layers of black goo and ice that probably filled his body instead of blood. She was even more of an advocate of Inej and Kaz finally admitting their feelings for each other than Nina, which Wylan hadn’t thought was possible.

Marya loved Nina too, and they spent a lot of time going dress shopping and eating waffles in Ketterdam when Nina visited. She would listen as Nina told her about Matthias, and how amazing he was, and how much she missed him. Nina said that sometimes it felt like there was a hole in her chest where her heart should be since Matthias died. Marya would listen and Nina said that being able to talk to someone made her feel the best she had in months.

Most of all, however, Wylan’s mother adored Jesper. She told Wylan she was so glad that her son had found a partner worthy of him. They’d visited Novyi Zem in the summer and Marya and Colm got along very well. They’d talked for hours whilst Wylan and Jesper ran around the jurda fields and the local town, and Jesper showed Wylan where he had grown up.

They’d spent a few autumn months in Ravka, as well. Nina had introduced Jesper to a Fabrikator who she knew called David, and his wife Genya, both of whom had fought in Ravka’s civil war and were now part of the Grisha Triumvirate. David had taught Jesper to use his powers to their full extent, and since then, Jesper had looked the healthiest he had since Wylan had known him. Wylan found he had a lot in common with David too, and the three of them had stayed in communication via letters since the end of their trip to Ravka. 

So, more than two years after his father tried to murder him, Wylan Hendriks was living the dream. Whatever that meant. Assuming the dream was hanging out with dangerous criminals who Wylan was fairly sure had all murdered many people, falling in love with a sharpshooter who regularly engaged in illegal activity with the biggest Barrel boss in Ketterdam, and occasionally blowing random shit up. It certainly wasn’t what Wylan would have envisioned for himself, but he was the happiest he’d ever been.

During the day, he would go to mercher meetings, engage in business, and pretend to be the upstanding merch that everyone thought he was, not an eighteen year old boy who really wanted to set something on fire. Jesper would read all the necessary documents to him before the meetings. Over time, he’d come to terms with his illiteracy. He couldn’t deny that he still felt insecure sometimes, but he knew that his inability to read wasn’t to do with his intelligence. He’d met more people like him during the last two years. People who couldn’t read words, or numbers, or even people who could understand them but wrote them backwards sometimes. 

He’d met people like Jesper, too. Not Grisha - he knew lots of Grisha. People who couldn’t concentrate for long periods of time, and liked to fiddle with things like Jesper did with his guns. Meeting David had made Wylan think about himself as well. He had so much in common with David, it was nearly uncanny. Things that would have got him committed to an asylum if people had found out when he was at his father’s house. Things like not understanding sarcasm, and hating loud noises and change. Over analyzing little details of his life.

Wylan knew there were people out there who had experienced the same things that he had. People who might not have been so lucky. He can’t have been the only one whose father had hurt him. He still had scars two years later - both mentally and physically. What about people who hadn’t been able to escape like he had? Wylan had had an idea at the back of his mind for a while now. He had no idea how to spend all the money he had. It was all too much. He wasn’t an extravagant person, and his life was great. He was sure Jesper would agree. The money just piled up, and Wylan didn’t do anything with it.

Someone walked into Wylan’s living room, shaking him out of his thoughts. He sat up, smoothing down his grey trousers, blue turtleneck jumper and white shirt. 

“Are you ready?” he asked Jesper.

Jesper was wearing a deep purple waistcoat with navy blue trousers.

“I’m always ready for waffles, merchling.”

“Careful.” warned Wylan. “Nina might need to fight you for the position of biggest waffle lover.”

“She can be my queen and I’ll be the king of waffle land.”

“Sounds like you might be forgetting someone.”

Jesper smirked. “Don’t worry, merchling. I’d be happy to invite you to be my secret lover for one night in waffle land.”

Wylan crossed his arms and spluttered and blushed. “That seems very unfair!”

“Surely your life would be extraordinarily better if I was even in it for one night than not at all?”

Wylan rolled his eyes. “You’d be such a humble ruler, too.”

Jesper groaned and kissed Wylan. “I think this extended metaphor is beginning to wear itself out. Let’s go get waffles.”

***

Wylan entered the waffle parlour with Jesper and immediately found himself bombarded with hugs and shouts. Nina threw her arms around Jesper and Wylan and hugged them so tightly they could barely breathe. Inej gave them each separate, short hugs, and led them over to the big table they had reserved. Wylan could see Kaz sitting in the corner of the table, pretending to be indifferent but smiling slightly. As soon as the others approached, his smile was replaced with his usual scowl. He was sitting beside a Fjerdan girl with russet hair and bronze eyes. Nina slid out a chair and sat beside the girl. Inej sat down next to Kaz and Wylan and Jesper found chairs on the opposite side of the table so they could face the others. Wylan couldn’t help but notice the empty chair that had been left by Nina at the end of the table, where Matthias used to sit.

“It’s been two years since we broke into the Ice Court.” said Inej. “Two years.”

“Kaz’s hair should be turning grey by now!” joked Jesper.

Kaz only rolled his eyes in response. “I’d like you to know I could have you all murdered by my men posted here with a single snap of my fingers.”

Wylan grinned. “But ‘cha won’t.”

“And I regret that every day of my life.” replied Kaz dryly.

“We should do something special.” continued Inej, ignoring all of them. “To commemorate it.”

Nina faked offense and dramatically put her hand against her heart. “Are you insinuating that waffles aren’t special enough? I may have to replace you with Jesper as my closest confidant if this behavior continues, Inej.”

“We do go for waffles every week, Nina.” pointed out Jesper. “Even if you and Inej have come specially for the anniversary of the heist.”

“Hanne’s never had Ketterdam waffles before, though.” replied Nina. “I intend to enlighten her.”

Everyone turned to look at the Fjerdan girl sitting next to Nina, and she looked away, suddenly embarrassed. 

“It’s okay.” said Wylan to her, looking her in the eye. “We don’t kill…” he paused. “Well, not the people we like, anyway. How do you know Nina?”

Nina smiled. “Meet my girlfriend, Hanne.” Inej’s face broke out into a grin and she tried to hug Hanne. Nina swallowed. “Hanne Brum.”

The Crows froze, and stared at Hanne, entirely stunned to silence.

“B- Brum?” stuttered Jesper, his eyes wide. Kaz looked like the only person who wasn’t in shock, but he knew everything weeks before everyone else found out. “Like, Jarl Brum?”

Nina nodded, looking like she was trying not to laugh at the pure outlandishness of the situation. Hanne looked entirely uncomfortable.

“I’m his daughter.” she mumbled.

“You know, Nina,” said Jesper. “When I told you to flirt your enemies into submission, I didn’t think you’d take it quite so literally.”

Nina burst out laughing and the tension was broken. Hanne smiled nervously.

“Don’t worry. I ran away from my father, with Nina. I’m a Grisha, you see. A healer.”

Wylan smiled warmly. “It’s great to meet you. I’m Wylan. Do you like to blow things up by any chance?”

Hanne blinked, confused. “... not that I know of?”

Jesper laughed. “He asks everyone that. He’s our demolitions expert. And my boyfriend.” He reached out and shook her hand across the table. “I’m Jesper.”

“I’m Nina’s best friend, Inej.”

“Kaz.” said Kaz, looking unbothered. “I assume you already know who I am.”

“I don’t think so?” asked Hanne. She paused to think. “Are you the muscle?”

Kaz let out a choked sound and Nina started laughing uncontrollably. Wylan had to hit Jesper on the back because it sounded like he couldn’t breathe, although he was laughing hard too.

Kaz crossed his arms. “I’m the biggest Barrel boss in Ketterdam.”

“Good for you.” replied Hanne. 

Jesper started laughing again and Kaz looked like a mix between being furious and lost for words. At that moment, Wylan decided he liked Hanne.

Hanne looked at her watch. She got up and picked up her bag and slung it over her shoulder.

“I’m really sorry guys, but I have to go.” She grinned. “I promised I’d meet Zoya at the Ravkan embassy to give away more Fjerdan government secrets. It was nice to meet all of you. Nina, I’ll see you at the embassy tonight?”

“But… waffles!” protested Nina. She sighed. “See you tonight. I’ll probably be back late, knowing this group.”  
Hanne nodded in understanding, and left the waffle parlour. As soon as she was gone, Jesper smirked.

“She’s certainly a catch.”

“I’m happy for you, Nina.” said Inej.

Nina smiled. “Thanks, guys.” Wylan couldn’t help but notice her glance at the empty chair next to her, so quickly most wouldn’t have noticed, and her smile flickered for a second.

“How are you all?” asked Wylan

“Waffles first, talk second.” insisted Nina.

They ordered waffles and the mouth watering delights arrived in five minutes. As they stuffed themselves, they chatted.

“Did I ever tell you guys about how during the heist Wylan perfectly recited the Fjerdan national anthem?”

Wylan gave Jesper a jab in the ribs. “Don’t you dare-”

“He was harmonising perfectly and everything! At least all those Fjerdan lessons amounted to something. It was the sweetest, most formal thing I’ve ever heard. Do you know how hard it was for me to stay silent and listen without losing my shit? It was so funny.”

Nina grinned and looked at Wylan. “We need to hear this. Right now.”

Wylan’s eyes widened in horror. “Oh, no. No, no, no, no. I’m not doing that.”

Jesper and Nina began to drum on the table as Inej watched in amusement and Kaz looked at them haughtily like he was better than all of them. “Do it, do it, do it!”

“This is harassment!” exclaimed Wylan.

“We’re criminals.” said Kaz, wiping the edge of his mouth with a napkin. “What do you expect?” All he ever ordered was a single black coffee and completely plain waffles. Wylan occasionally wondered if he possessed a human sense of taste or if he ate only to feed the demon inside of him that acted in replacement of his soul. 

“Actually,” began Jesper.

Inej rolled her eyes. “Here he goes.”

“I’m an honourable, upstanding mercher’s assistant who lives in one of the most respectable areas of Ketterdam.”

Kaz raised an eyebrow. “And it just happens that you’re in a relationship with said mercher, right?”

“He pays me and everything!” persisted Jesper. 

“I do.” confirmed Wylan. 

“If I was a more petty person,” said Nina. “I might point out that you haven’t specified what he pays you in. Now, if I was an even more petty person, I might bring up the fact that the two of you are in a relationship.” Nina smirked. “If I was a very petty person, I might conclude with the fact that your having not told us what that payment is lets us draw our own conclusions.”

It took Wylan a few seconds to get it, and he blushed bright red and crossed his arms indignantly.

“I hate you.” said Jesper.

Nina grinned. “You too!”

Jesper stared passive aggressively at Nina for a minute before giving up and going back to playing with the handle of his guns.

“How’s your mercher work, Wylan?” asked Inej.

“Same as always, really.” He replied. “There’s this one mercher who’s really annoying me. Councilman Walsham. He’s been indicating that I’m too young to be able to be a mercher. He keeps undermining all my decisions in meetings and voting against my plans. Funny thing is,” continued Wylan with a roll of his eyes. “He only started doing this when he found out about the fact that me and Jesper are dating.”

Jesper groaned and shuddered slightly in disgust. “I hate him so much. He’s such a ratbag.”

“He keeps boasting about this incredible deal he’s secured with Novyi Zem for jurda shipments. It’s all he talks about. He thinks it’s going to make him the greatest mercher who ever lived. If the deal goes through, he’ll become insufferable. And I won’t be able to order jurda or profit from it anymore because he’ll be in charge of all of it, and there’s no way he’ll share.” Wylan sighed. “I wish I could snatch those papers right out of his slimy hands.”

Jesper patted Wylan’s head and he glared at the sharpshooter with contempt. “He’s such a good little merchling!”

However, Kaz stayed silent. He looked into the distance, distractedly tapping his finger on the table.

“Hold on.” said Inej. “Is that his scheming face?”

“I think it is.” replied Nina.

Jesper looked Kaz over. “What in Ghenzen’s name is he planning?”

Wylan blinked. “Was it something I said?”

Kaz looked up at all of them slowly. He smirked. “Didn’t you say we should do something to commemorate the second anniversary of the heist? How does breaking into a councilman’s house sound to you?”

***

An hour later, they rolled up a rough plan that Wylan had drawn of Councilman Walsham’s house. He couldn’t quite believe that they were really doing this. He couldn’t wait to see the look on the mercher’s self righteous face when he realised that his prized contract had disappeared. As long as Wylan and the Dregs didn’t get caught. But they’d gotten into the Ice Court and out again - surely they could attempt a simple break in that basic burglars could successfully pull off.

“Don’t you remember the last time we broke into a Councilman’s house? You know, when we fell through a hole we created in the ceiling into the centre of the dining room while they were in the middle of eating their dinner?” Wylan had pointed out, to which Jesper responded;

“I think we should have kept the hole in the dining room. It gives us a certain air of mystery. Every time a mercher ate dinner with us they would be extremely confused. It would be a great Hendriks family secret.”

Wylan pretended not to feel a jolt in his stomach when Jesper referred to him as family.

Now, Wylan looked through his brown satchel. He had three flash bombs, two other kinds of bombs, and a Wyvil in case of emergency. Though, considering the even more deadly upgrade he’d given it, it was definitely for a last case scenario. He took out his notebook carefully, making sure not to rip any pages, and put it in his trouser pocket where the drawings wouldn’t get any chemical stains on them. He’d already made that mistake before, and acid had burned through a collage he was working on of his mother. He wasn’t going to do it again.

Wylan slung his satchel over his shoulder and turned to look at Kaz who was in the centre of the group, reviewing the plans Wylan had drawn.

“You all know what you’re doing? I’m picking the lock and letting Wylan and Jesper in to find the contract. Nina and Inej, you’re on watch to make sure no one gets in. Nina can use her powers to knock any security unconscious, and Inej can spot any threats before they arrive. Is that clear?”

Nina laughed. “Kaz, this is a random house we’re breaking into, not the Ice Court.”

“We can never be too careful.”

“Kaz is being pessimistic! This is just like old times!” Jesper exclaimed. “I’m getting nostalgia already. Wylan, are you prepared to be seduced again? This time around I have even more sex appeal. You didn’t think it was humanly possible for me to be even more attractive, but here we are.”

“Shut up.” mumbled Wylan, his cheeks heating up.

Inej was in the corner, sharpening her knives with a deep concentration. Kaz made some final changes to the plan, while Jesper examined his guns. Nina practiced her power on an unsuspecting Inej, who proceeded to throw a knife at a swirl of dust in the air. Wylan looked over his bombs for the second time. He couldn’t help but feel like something was missing. Someone. The lack of Matthias’ presence had affected them all to some degree, even though they’d never admit it. Wylan almost missed Kuwei too. He couldn’t help but think he could have been friends with the other boy, if only he’d stopped flirting with Wylan’s boyfriend. Well, technically not Wylan’s anything at that point. Still, thought Wylan stubbornly. Technicalities. 

Wylan closed his bag, and the Crows left the waffle parlour for Councilman Walsham’s mansion. The sun had already set and the now-familiar Ketterdam streets were bathed in shadows. The perfect setting for an undercover break in. A minor heist, if you will. The teenagers chatted and laughed the whole way there. Jesper may have been joking but he was right - it felt exactly like it had two years ago. Wylan was glad they’d done this, and not just because he wanted to give a homophobic ratbag a taste of his own medicine. Getting all his friends together again, spending time with them, made him feel the happiest he had in months. Even with Jesper, who made every day the best one Wylan had ever had, this was when he felt truly complete. They were his family, more than his father had ever been. They made him feel like he fit in somewhere, when the world told him he didn’t have a place because of his illiteracy. He was an outcast. But so were they.

Jesper tapped Wylan lightly on the shoulder, and he looked up from staring at his shoes. They were at Councilman Walsham’s house. Even his place of residence was over extravagant and tacky. The entrance was gilded with gold and a lavish carving of Ghenzen. Inej slipped into the shadows to keep watch and Nina took a post outside the house to act as a defense. Luckily, all the lights in the house were off. Councilman Walsham wasn’t home, just like Wylan had suspected. He’d heard that some of the older merchers were meeting up for dinner and a game of cards, which he knew the man couldn’t resist. Wylan hadn’t been invited, of course.

Kaz, Wylan and Jesper crept up to the front door of the house. After the Dregs, it had taken Wylan a while to get used to being allowed into expensive mansions through the front door, because he was invited for dinner, instead of breaking in. Kaz picked the lock for a few minutes before the door swung open. He muttered something under his breath about “rich people having locks so easy to crack that I don’t even get a good challenge” and they walked into the entrance hall of the mansion. 

It had the same layout as every other mercher mansion Wylan had been in, including his own, and he quickly found the staircase. They snuck upstairs and silently entered Councilman Walsham’s office. It looked chillingly like Wylan’s father’s old office, before Wylan had had it redecorated to be less dark and formal. He preferred to do his work in his large, green garden in the summer months anyway, with Jesper by his side reading to him. Wylan’s father had screamed at him and told him that he wasn’t good enough many times in an office like this one. A slight shiver ran down Wylan’s spine at the memory, and the near perfect likeness of the room.

He opened a drawer and looked through it, glancing over his shoulder nervously every few seconds. He eventually found the contract in a locked safe which Kaz picked for him. Wylan looked at it before tucking it into his trouser pocket. He would later revel in setting off a small bomb on top of the Councilman’s prized contract and chucking it into the fireplace as it crumbled to black soot. 

He glanced at his companions, and showed them he had the object they’d come for. He looked out the window and froze. There were a batch of Stadtwatch looking around the street below, likely on their nightly patrol of the richest area in Ketterdam. Few thieves dared to show their faces here, but rich people liked to feel safe, and paid the Stadtwatch enough money to come here every night that they didn’t give a second thought to the fact that they could be doing something more worthy with their time.

“Stadtwatch!” warned Wylan.

Kaz and Jesper crowded around the window and looked down. Jesper swore under his breath and Kaz stopped. There was no way they could walk out the door now. Anyone would be wary of three suspicious looking teenagers leaving a Councilman’s house in the dead of night. Stadtwatch would be sure to recognise Kaz Brekker, the biggest Barrel boss in Ketterdam. 

“Change of plan.” said Kaz. He began to lift up the window and adjust his gloves, gesturing to Wylan and Jesper.

“Are you insane?” exclaimed Jesper.

Wylan stared at the long drop and felt nauseous. 

“Just occasionally murderous, but only because of the people I kill.” snapped Kaz. 

“I could blow something up.” pointed out Wylan. “I’ve got plenty of bombs in my bag that could serve as distractions. There are many alternatives to…” Wylan swallowed. “That.”

“Save the majority of bombs for when we’re getting away. We need to get out of the house first.” Kaz sighed. “Give me a flash bomb. I can use it to distract the Stadtwatch while I get back to Nina and Inej. The two of you, however, should have no problem using this window.”

Wylan gave Kaz a flash bomb from his satchel, and Kaz signalled out the window. Wylan saw a figure that must be Inej darting around in the shadows out of the corner of his eye, and a net appeared below the window.

“Did you really think I’d come without a backup plan?” asked Kaz.

Without another word, he strode out of the room, holding Wylan’s bomb in one hand and his cane in the other. Wylan looked down the window and tried not to gag. He’d never had a fear of heights, but he seemed to be developing one very quickly. Then again, it was a fear of death, which would be a lot more worrying if he didn’t have. He looked at his companion, who was the very definition of a man who didn’t fear death. Jesper thrived on the thrill of suspense and high stakes situations. Even after their trip to Ravka, Wylan noticed an extra sparkle in his eyes after a fight or a close scrape.

Jesper looked practically ecstatic to be risking his life. Jumping out a three storey window had not been something Wylan had ever wanted to do at any point. Jesper began to prepare to slide out the window before he saw Wylan’s expression.

He raised an eyebrow. “It’ll be… fun?”

Wylan snorted. “Getting my guts splattered on the pavement of Councilman Walsham’s house is definitely my idea of a good time.”

“At least he’ll have to pay to get it cleaned up?” suggested Jesper.

Wylan laughed. He felt slightly better, until he looked at the long drop out the window again. 

Jesper kissed Wylan and began to position his legs on the window ledge. “If I die, make sure they serve lots of waffles at my funeral.”

“Not helping.” replied Wylan dryly.

“Sorry not sorry!” exclaimed Jesper, and jumped out the window. Wylan watched him fall through the air for a second with his heart in his throat, before he landed on the net, bounced once, and scrambled to his feet. Jesper climbled off the net and waved to Wylan from below, wiggling his ten, still intact fingers. There was a sudden bang from the first floor and Wylan saw smoke coming from where the entrance to the mansion was. Kaz must have used the bomb Wylan had given him to get out of the building quickly.

Jesper made a beckoning motion with his fingers to indicate that he needed to hurry up. Wylan took a deep breath, swung his legs onto the window sill, and let himself fall. He felt his head spin as he free fell through the cool night air. His breathing quickened as he felt himself falling. ‘No!’ He thought. ‘Not now!’ He fell faster and faster towards the hard ground and tears streamed out of his eyes.

Wylan hit the net hard and winced as his back met the material, sending a painful shock through his body. He clambered off the net, the world spinning. He walked unevenly with his head pounding for about five seconds before he vomited onto the pavement and collapsed onto his knees. He vaguely felt someone’s hands on his shoulder, steadying him. 

“Deep breaths, merchling.” murmured Jesper into his ear. “Deep breaths.”

Jesper was rubbing little circles on his back. Wylan took a big intake of breath and his vision cleared slightly. He wiped a little bit of spit from the corner of his mouth.

“Feeling better?” asked Jesper.

Wylan nodded weakly. Jesper offered his hand and Wylan took it and helped himself up, brushing dirt from his trousers.

“Get moving!” shouted Kaz from across the lawn.  
Inej melted out of the shadows and Nina looked around frantically.

“Hold on.” said Jesper. “Are the Stadtwatch looking exactly our way?”

Wylan’s head snapped forward and he froze. Nina and Jesper swore in unison. The group of Stadtwatch officers were marching towards Wylan and his friends. They must have been alerted to the Dregs’ presence by Kaz’s distraction. Wylan reached into his satchel and pulled out a bomb. He threw it haphazardly over his shoulder, and covered his and Jesper’s eyes with his arm. It exploded with a loud bang and a bright orange flash, throwing shrapnel everywhere, and the Stadtwatch turned away momentarily. 

His blood thrumming with familiar adrenaline, Wylan looked at his partners in crime. Kaz was surveying the area quickly, his body tense. Inej was crouched in a fighting position, clutching her knives, as if she was ready to attack at any moment. Nina held her hands out to use her Heartrending powers on anyone who came close. Jesper’s fingers twitched as he held his beloved pistol in the air. Wylan closed his satchel and grabbed Jesper’s hand, gripping it tight. His lips curled at the edges, and Jesper smirked back at him. He surveyed his companions one more time, and the Stadtwatch marched on them, guns blazing.

“Wy.” said Jesper. He grinned like a Cheshire cat. “Run.”


	3. Future

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wylan considers family. The dark, twisted family he had with the Van Ecks. The family he found with the Dregs. And the family he wants to start with Jesper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I included a Nina Nesbitt reference here because her songs influenced this chapter so much and set the tone really well.

Family meant a lot of things to Wylan Hendriks-Fahey. Mostly, it meant being loved. Feeling protected and safe and warm. Being able to let your guard down. Family was Jesper, who Wylan had married seven months ago, almost six years after they’d first met. So much had happened since that fateful day in the tannery when Jesper had recruited Wylan to join the Dregs. Yet, at the same time, nothing had changed. Wylan could have never thought he’d be so happy in this house. He could have never imagined getting married, saying his vows to someone who he truly loved with every inch of his heart. 

In the past, he’d never been able to picture any day past the next. His life was a challenge, a burden that he had to push through and bear; wake up, drag himself through the day, sleep, repeat. If he was lucky, maybe he could get married to a kind woman who would be nice to him, even if he didn’t love her. If he was unlucky, his father would kick him out of the house and he’d die before he had the chance to turn eighteen. Wylan had never seen his future laid out in such a clear path in front of him as it was now. Even the rush of the water in the canals, the rattle of horses hooves as they clattered down the uneven Ketterdam streets seemed to scream ‘Jesper.’

They had got married in the autumn, in a quiet ceremony in Novyi Zem on the rolling jurda fields of Jesper’s father’s farm. They had kissed, forever joined, as the vibrant orange-red leaves of the trees, nearly the colour of Wylan’s hair, fell down around them. Even Kaz had taken Inej’s ship, with Inej, Nina, and her girlfriend Hanne, to attend the wedding. 

Wylan and Jesper threw a joint bachelor party the week before the ceremony, in Ketterdam, and Kaz somehow convinced the owners of all of the best taverns in the Barrel to reserve them entirely for Wylan and Jesper and their party. They had a gourmet meal provided by Wylan’s chef at the Hendriks mansion, and then spent the night drinking and laughing at various taverns in West Stave. They had got very drunk, and Wylan didn’t remember much that happened after his third shot of gin. He did have a vague memory of drunkenly standing on a table and singing a very off key version of the Fjerdan national anthem, while Jesper shouted very dirty versions of the lyrics and Wylan aggressively hummed into his empty glass of beer. From what he recalled of Jesper’s words, they would make even the most hardened soldier blush. If Matthias had been there, he would have called them all demjins for disrespecting his country’s sacred anthem. Wylan could only pray that his companions had as little memory of the night as he did.

He had woken up the next morning and vomited his dinner into a bucket until his stomach was empty. Jesper seemed to hold his liquor a little better, given his experience, but even he seemed rather nauseous that morning. Neither of them were in the mood for their chef’s rich, buttery breakfast. They got on a ship to Novyi Zem the following day and were greeted by an extremely excited Colm. Wylan spent the majority of their time on the farm preparing for the wedding, and reuniting with the people living in the local village. He had met them on previous visits, and they were very kind.

Inej, Nina, Kaz and Hanne arrived the night before the wedding. Although it was a small ceremony, nearly all of the village arrived to congratulate Jesper, who they’d grown up with. He was finally able to meet Leoni Hilli, the girl who his mother had died saving. Leoni and her Ravkan fiance Adrik knew Nina, and had spent a year on a spying mission with her in Fjerda. They’d been on the mission when Nina met Hanne for the first time. Wylan was sure it was only a matter of time before they got married too, if that was what they wanted.

During the wedding, a lot of tears were shed, mostly from Nina, who spent the majority of the ceremony crying loudly into her handkerchief. Inej sat by her side and rubbed her back the whole time. Inej congratulated them later, and told them how happy she was for them. She recited a poetic Suli proverb about true love that sounded very beautiful. Wylan couldn’t really make any sense of it. Kaz refused to show any emotion during the wedding or the aftermath. However, he gave Wylan and Jesper a wedding gift of 100 kruge because “it’s a lot more useful than ugly cufflinks anyway.” Wylan knew it was Kaz’s way of showing that he was happy for them, and he took the offering with a smile of gratitude.

They ate dinner that night with Colm and all of the Dregs. The villagers cooked them traditional food from Novyi Zem, which was mouth wateringly delicious. Even Nina, who usually insisted that nothing could beat waffles, devoured it and was begging for another portion. Wylan and his friends left the next day and exchanged a tearful goodbye with Colm, and everyone from the local area who had come to wish Jesper and his new husband a safe journey.

If Wylan was honest, married life wasn’t any different to how things had been before. He still attended mercher meetings every day, and Jesper read important documents to him. He spent his evenings in the Barrel with the Dregs, and went to sleep every night in the mansion he now, for the first time since he was born, considered home. But it made him indescribably happy to think that he and Jesper were tied to each other in a centuries old tradition. Married. Wylan Van Eck, who’d thought he’d never get further in life than his father’s taunting, was married.

Marriage wasn’t the only exciting thing that Wylan had pursued in the last year. He’d fulfilled a dream that he’d had in the back of his mind for a long time. He and Jesper had used the Van Eck fortune and the money he’d earned from being a mercher to start a charity. It was a house for children running from parents who mistreated them as Wylan’s father had. He’d always wanted to help people out there who had been through the same things as him, and now he was doing it, he could hardly believe it. It made him emotional to think that because of him, there was somewhere for children with parents like Jan Van Eck to go when they had no other option. To think that if something like that had existed when he was sixteen, he could have got away long ago.

The charity was a safe place for young people who were forced to run from their homes. They could live there, with other children who had been through the same thing they had, and be looked after. They could get an education. Wylan had made sure that the tutors were aware that any children who had a condition like his shouldn’t be forced to read or write if they weren’t able to. The children would never be punished with physical force or emotional abuse if they broke the rules. 

Wylan spent months looking for the perfect tutors and nannies to run the charity house. He needed to know that the kids who were in his care were being looked after well, and could always feel safe with the adults who cared for them. The house had been open for eight months and already had twelve children living there from all over Ketterdam. Wylan had spoken to each of them personally, and heard their stories. It had been painful to listen to children so young tell tales just like his. Nonetheless, he was extremely glad that he had been able to give them a safe place to grow up, away from their abusive parents.

The charity was so successful that he had discussed with Jesper opening houses in more major cities in Kerch, or possibly expanding to other countries like Ravka or Novyi Zem. He and Jesper visited once a month, sometimes more, to see how the children were doing, and make sure the charity was being run how they envisioned it. Wylan wished he could simply imprison all the parents out there who treated their children so disgustingly. Parents were supposed to be a child’s protector, the one who made them feel better when they had a bad day. Not the ones who made their life hard. This was the next best thing that Wylan could do. He knew that there were many children out there who would be too scared to turn to his charity, who wouldn’t know it existed. But if Wylan was able to improve even one child’s life, everything he’d done to make his idea of the charity a reality was worth it.

Wylan twisted his gold wedding ring around his finger absentmindedly, as he sat in silence. He walked up to his bedside table, and opened the velvet flute case on the desk. He took out the instrument and brought it to his lips, playing a few notes. He ran his fingers down the keys and pressed them down. Wylan played the beginnings of a melody he’d had in his head for a while. He’d need to rewrite some parts and add in some more notes to make it flow better, but the tune definitely had potential. With the hand that wasn’t holding the flute, he clumsily picked up a pencil and jotted down some notes that seemed to fit well, while testing them out on the flute. 

The piece of paper was already covered in scribbles of musical notes and doodles that Wylan had drawn when he was bored. He’d written his fair share of pieces in the last few years, and his artwork occasionally sold for large sums of money. Not that he needed the kruge, but the fact that people wanted to hang his work in their houses never failed to shock him. Although his art was primarily paintings, he also drew sketches and liked to experiment with other mediums, using whatever resources he had on hand. 

He enjoyed painting with his mother in the garden some days. Painting had been the only thing that had kept her sane during her time in the asylum, and she still found it extremely therapeutic. She would paint colourful art of the mansion, the people who Wylan and Jesper invited over, and the garden. She loved the garden most of any place in the house. More than anything else, she painted Wylan. She would capture him laughing with Jesper during dinner, playing his flute, deep in concentration on whatever new music he was composing, listening intently as Jesper read to him outdoors on a sunny day, his red-gold hair shining in the bright sunshine. 

Marya would help him paint, showing him various techniques and how to capture a scene to its full extent. She always mentioned how happy it made her that her son had inherited her love for art. When Wylan and Jesper got married, she painted them a beautiful portrait of the ceremony, when they kissed among the jurda blossoms. The painting was textured with real jurda petals and was Marya’s best work to date. They hung it on their bedroom wall and it made Wylan’s heart warm to look at it every night and remember that day.

Wylan played another note and it fit the melody. He cheered, and jotted it down onto the sheet. The song was starting to come together in his head. He hummed it under his breath, tapping his foot to the beat. When he came to the grand finale, he threw down his hand like an orchestral composer. Wylan closed his eyes, letting himself get lost in the song. The music washed over him, and he moved his hand up and down the flute, the melody flowing out of him like a secret inner monologue. He finished playing the song, and opened his eyes slowly, as if he was coming out of his own world. He frantically picked up the pencil on his bedside and wrote down the notes as quickly as he could before he forgot something. The sheet was overflowing with musical scribbles and Wylan had to squeeze in the final line of chords at the bottom. He made a mental note to find some new paper.

Wylan carefully put the flute back into its case, and tucked the sheet into his trouser pocket to go over later. He turned around to leave the room and stopped. Jesper was standing in the entrance, leaning against the wall with his hands in his pockets. He must have been watching the whole time. Wylan walked up to him and Jesper kissed him in greeting.

“How long have you been there?” asked Wylan.

“A while.” said Jesper. “I came to get you so we can go to the house.” He grinned. “I wasn’t expecting to find a musical virtuoso in the place of my husband.”

Wylan blushed. “I’m not-” He stopped himself. 

Wylan still struggled to believe in himself a lot of the time. His father’s harsh words echoed in his ears whenever he attempted something new. He’d never be good enough. He’d never be wanted. He’d never be more than a dimwit who couldn’t read a simple sentence. He laid awake some nights, staring at the ceiling as dark thoughts swirled around his head. But there was another voice now. A louder, stronger voice. Jesper’s voice. The voice that told him that he was incredible. He was an artistic genius, a musical prodigy, a demolitions expert. He was strong. He was Wylan Hendriks-Fahey. That was the voice that held him through the long nights, that reassured him when he felt uncertain and kissed him and told him everything would be alright. And that voice overpowered Wylan’s father’s every time.

Jesper had insisted that Wylan needed to learn to accept compliments. He should have more confidence in his own abilities. If someone said something nice, it was because they meant it. He was slowly teaching himself to stop feeling guilty when people told him how impressive his work was. He was learning that he didn’t need to feel like he didn’t deserve the praise he was given.

He stared at his shoes as a blush crept up his cheeks. “Th- thank you.” he corrected. It felt good.

Jesper noticed. He always noticed. He gave Wylan a grin and squeezed his hand. 

“It’s a new piece I’m writing. I think it might be one of the best ones I’ve written.”

“I know nothing about music.” pointed out Jesper. “However, it sounded great. Very… flute-y.”

Wylan laughed. “Thanks.” he replied. The words came easier this time. “It’s called ‘The Sun Will Come Up, The Seasons Will Change.’ It’s about family. What it means to me. My dad, and the Dregs and…” Wylan turned red again. Even after six years of dating, and then marriage, he couldn’t stop himself from blushing when he admitted something personal. “You.”

Jesper smirked and gave Wylan another kiss. “I’m honoured.” He strapped his pistols to his belt and looked at the staircase. “Should we head out?”

***

Jesper was always enthusiastic to visit the charity. It had started as Wylan’s idea, but they’d made it a reality together. Three of the children it looked after were Grisha. They hadn’t considered when they started the charity that a lot of orphaned Grisha were adopted before their powers appeared, then mistreated by their adoptive parents when they were revealed to be Grisha. After the third Grisha child had arrived, Jesper and Wylan finally made the connection. The involvement of Grisha had heightened Jesper’s interest in the charity, and he was now in charge of making sure the Grisha children were being treated correctly, as well as spreading the message that the house was a safe place for all young Grisha. He was very dedicated to his position, and spent hours putting up posters around Ketterdam, and looking for any rumours of Grisha children who were being enslaved as indentures.

When Wylan entered the large house, he found himself ambushed by a little Suli girl, who wrapped her arms against his legs and held tight. She was called Iris and was seven years old. She was the youngest child there, and had been taken in six months ago. Wylan had found her starving and nearly dead on the streets of the Barrel, while visiting Kaz. She was wearing only dirty scraps and she was so thin he could see her bones. Her parents had abandoned her after she showed the beginnings of Inferni power. He’d immediately taken her back to his mansion and paid for the best doctor he could find. The doctor had managed to save her by the skin of his teeth, and Wylan had looked after her himself at the mansion for a week, with Jesper’s help, before she was healthy enough that he could take her to the charity house. Ever since then, he’d had an emotional connection to the girl.

Wylan knelt down to her level and hugged her. She’d put on so much weight since he’d first seen her she was barely recognisable. 

“Hello, Iris!”

“Wylan! Look at what I can do!” 

The little girl giggled and held out her hand. She closed her eyes and seemed to push very hard, her other fist clenched. A little flame appeared in her palm. She opened her eyes and stared in awe for a few seconds before it spluttered out.

“Woah!” exclaimed Wylan in fake astonishment. “It’s so pretty! You’re very talented, Iris.”

Iris jumped up in excitement. “I know!”

Wylan tried to contain his laugh. He got up, and saw Jesper watching from behind him with a smile on his face.

“Do you want to show me and Jesper around, Iris?”

The little Suli girl nodded vigorously, and ran into the house, skipping as she went.

***

Wylan slumped down onto the couch and sunk into the pile of soft cushions, sighing. Jesper sat down next to him, and slung an arm around his waist. They’d just returned from the charity, after spending the afternoon playing games with the children and watching their lessons. They’d walked for an hour to get to the house, which was the other side of Ketterdam from the sector where Wylan and Ketterdam’s richest resided in extravagant mansions. The refuge was in the suburbs, just outside the slums. Wylan had made sure it was in a location where poverty stricken children could reach it easily, but there wasn’t rampant crime or violence. 

He glanced at the large grandfather clock in the centre of the room. It was nearly seven o’ clock already. Dinner would be ready in an hour or so. He could smell beef wafting in from the kitchen, and his stomach rumbled slightly. His chef always cooked the most delicious food. He paid all of his staff the highest wage possible. He knew how hard it was to afford the expenses that came with living in Ketterdam, and he wanted to do the best he could to make sure the people who worked for him were able to live comfortably, especially for the hard work that they did for him every day. Wylan occasionally tried his hand at cooking himself, although last time he’d attempted to cook waffles for Jesper’s birthday, he’d ended up with batter splattered on his nose and flour all over the kitchen.

Jesper distractedly ran a hand through Wylan’s curls and stretched like a cat, yawning. 

“I heard someone talking about Inej in the Barrel today.” said Wylan.

“Only good things, I hope.” replied Jesper. “Otherwise I may have to turn up at their door with my pistols in hand.”

Wylan laughed. “It was complimentary, I promise. This girl was saying how she’s heard rumours that there’s a fearless pirate captain freeing slave girls all over Shu Han.”

“That’s our Inej.”

“She’s really making a legacy for herself. It got me thinking… we’ve all come so far, haven’t we?”

“I like how that infers that I’m on par with a slaver killing intrepid buccaneer.”

Wylan rolled his eyes affectionately and elbowed Jesper. “You know what I’m talking about. Kaz has been the unrivaled boss of the Barrel for years. He has influence everywhere in Kerch. Last thing I heard, Nina is one of the most powerful Grisha in Ravka. She helped the king prevent a Fjerdan invasion. And you’re saving Grisha children’s lives.”

“Let’s not forget that you’re rescuing children from all over Ketterdam and giving them a clean place to live, fresh food and schooling, whilst simultaneously being one of the most successful merchers on the Council at twenty two.”

Wylan bit his lip and smiled up at Jesper. “That means a lot.”

“Your incredibly charismatic and handsome husband is the secret key to your success, of course.”

Wylan grinned. “Undeniably.”

Jesper paused as if he was deciding whether to say something. Wylan leaned closer and rested his head on the sharpshooter’s shoulder, and Jesper turned to look at him, taking his hand.

“Wylan…” Jesper swallowed, unusually shy. “One day… do you- do you want to adopt kids? Together.”

Wylan froze. His heart nearly skipped a beat. “What?”

“I said-”

“No, I… I know what you said.”

Jesper awkwardly played with the handles of his pistols, refusing to meet Wylan’s gaze. His face fell.

“If it’s making you uncomfortable, we can forget I ever said it. Never happened. Done.”

“No!” exclaimed Wylan quickly. Jesper stared at him. “I didn’t mean it like that. It’s not you.”

“If you say ‘it’s me’ I’m going to smack you in the face, merchling.”

Wylan paused. “It’s just… I’m sorry, you wouldn’t get it.”

Jesper raised an eyebrow and put his hand on top of Wylan’s. “I can try.”

Wylan sighed. “I could never be a father, Jesper. It just… couldn’t happen.”

“Why not?”

“You’ve met my father. You know about my childhood. I don’t even know what a good father is like.”

“My father wasn’t perfect either, Wylan! He banned me from using my powers and tried to shield me from the world.”

“Don’t even try to compare your father to mine, Jesper!” snapped Wylan.

Jesper winced guiltily and looked away. He tucked one of Wylan’s curls behind his ear. 

“I’m sorry, Wy. I shouldn’t have.”

“It’s not your fault. It’s just… hard for me to talk about. It still feels raw, even now.”

“I know. That’s why I shouldn’t have brought it up.” Jesper looked Wylan in the eye. “I meant what I said, though. You’d be an amazing father. You’re so good with Iris and you care so much about everyone. For what it’s worth, I promise that you’re nothing like your father.”

“Thank you.” mumbled Wylan. He looked at his nails and turned to Jesper. “I’m sorry, too. I shouldn’t have reacted so impulsively.” He took a deep breath and brushed a stray lock of hair out of his eye, his heart beating fast. “And you’re right. I would like to have kids with you one day. If you want to.”

Jesper’s face lit up. “Yeah. Yeah, I would.”

Wylan leant forward and their lips met. They kissed for a long time. At that moment, the final note of Wylan’s new piece, the note that brought everything together, came to him.

He snuggled closer. “I love you, Jes.”

“I love you too, Wy.”

Family meant a lot of things to Wylan. But most of all, it meant home. And Jesper Hendriks-Fahey felt like home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That’s the end of the fic! Everything comes full circle in the end.  
> If you’ve gotten this far thank you so much for reading my fic. I hope you enjoyed it, and it would mean so much to me if you could leave me a comment telling me what you thought.  
> You can follow me on tumblr - my blog is thomastair-paris.


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